Love is Weakness
by jamesandlilypotter81
Summary: Post 2x09. "No, you're going to hear me out whether you like it or not." Her mouth is pressed into a thin line, and Clarke lets out a sigh of defeat. Octavia notices this, releases her, but doesn't move away—she's still very much standing in Clarke's personal space. "I get it. You shut everyone out so you can't get hurt. So you don't feel pain. But you're being selfish."


"You need to get your shit together, Clarke." The comment is shocking enough that she stirs out of her trance-like state, turning away from Finn's ghost (who has been stalking her quite determinedly, a disappointed look on his face) and looking at who had spoken.

It is surprising, really. Though Bellamy had been the first to see the walls she'd put up—closely followed by her mother, then Kane and Raven—it is _Octavia_ who calls her out on it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Clarke lies, meeting Octavia's hard gaze, not flinching from the accusation shining in her eyes.

"Bullshit," the younger Blake spits out, crossing her arms and taking a step forward. Despite her stature, at that moment, Octavia is an intimidating figure. It may have actually cowed Clarke had she not been sure that a confrontation would eventually take place. "You're pushing everyone away, but you can't do that. You're not _allowed_ to do that." Her eyes are alight with fury, and beneath that, an understanding.

Which, to Clarke, is what's bullshit. After all, Octavia didn't kill Lincoln. She has no idea what Clarke is feeling.

"I don't need your permission," Clarke bites out. "Now leave me alone." She is turning away when Octavia grabs her arm, squeezing tightly enough to leave bruises.

"No, you're going to hear me out whether you like it or not." Her mouth is pressed into a thin line, and Clarke lets out a sigh of defeat. Octavia notices this, releases her, but doesn't move away—she's still very much standing in Clarke's personal space. "I get it. You shut everyone out so you can't get hurt. So you don't feel pain. But you're being selfish."

"_Selfish?_ I _killed_ him to save him! To save all of you! You have a thing against how I cope with what I did for _you_? Next time, you make the impossible choice." She sounds bitter, offended, and most importantly, hurt, but she finds she doesn't quite care. Because she's angry—positively _livid_—that Octavia is willing to question how she chooses to deal with the pain she's only enduring because of _Finn_ and her people.

"Yeah, and what about the people who care about _you_?" Clarke doesn't understand what Octavia means. She has no idea how that is even remotely relevant. The confusion must be written all over her face, because Octavia lets out a small laugh and shakes her head. "You're dealing with the pain by shutting all of us out. But how do you think we're feeling?" Clarke doesn't miss how Octavia uses words like 'us' and 'we,' and if she wasn't so damn angry with the girl, she would feel touched despite her walls. She almost wants to say thank you.

"You weren't the ones who stabbed Finn," she says instead, unwilling to let Octavia sway her, unwilling to let her get past the walls and defenses. Because Lexa is right, love is weakness. It only leads to more pain, more suffering.

Nothing good comes out of love—she's learned that the hard way.

"So, what? You're punishing us?" Clarke is unable to help it; she lets out a laugh.

"Punishing you? What're you talking about?"

"We're your friends, Clarke." She looks earnest, as if desperate for Clarke to understand, but she also seems incredibly sad, as if she's sure it isn't likely. "Do you want to know how you deal with pain? With loss?" It's clearly a rhetorical question because she pauses for only a second before plowing on. "You lean on the people who care about you. You share the burden with the people who love you." Clarke can feel her mask slipping, and she suddenly hates Octavia for it.

"You should sneak out the same way you snuck in," she says, meaning to sound harsh, cruel. But Octavia just smiles.

"Screw you, Clarke," she jokes feebly, sending Clarke back to the day she asked Octavia to risk her life, the day Bellamy looked at her accusingly, letting her know in no uncertain terms that it would be _her_ fault if anything happened to his little sister. Octavia, surprisingly, does turn around to leave the medical bay, but pauses briefly before pushing aside the plastic hanging from the doorway. "We all love you, Clarke. And we're hurting because you are."

It's a good thing she leaves immediately afterward, because there's no one in the medical bay to see Clarke completely fall apart at Octavia's words.

xxx

She can feel Bellamy's eyes on her, and she hates it.

Though he was the first to notice her walls, he was the only one who also pretended he saw no change in her—something she had been grateful for. It's obvious something has changed, and that 'change' is named Octavia….

She's about to go and explain to the younger Blake what boundaries are, what respecting someone's privacy entails, except before she is able to move, _he_ grabs her shoulder.

"You've pissed off my sister," he says shortly, letting go of her and crossing his arms. "The day Octavia was born, I said I wouldn't let anything happen to her." He pauses, and does that little right-sided smirk and ducked head thing he's so fond of, before shrugging. "But as her older brother, anything that pisses her off makes me happy." Despite herself—despite the walls, the 'love is weakness' chant in her head (which sounds suspiciously like Lexa's voice)—Clarke lets out a laugh.

"I didn't do anything to her." Bellamy hides his surprise at her laughter well, choosing to sit down next to her by the communal fire instead. His hair is messier than usual, and the light of the fire accents the thin white scars that litter his once smooth face.

"Yeah, I figured." He stays silent so long after that that Clarke wants to explain, wants to tell him why his little sister is upset with her, but she finds that her mouth has gone dry and her tongue is glued to the roof of it. "I know she comes on a little hard sometimes," he finally says after nearly ten minutes of silence, "but she's only doing it because she's worried."

"Are you going to lecture me, too, Bellamy?" she says despite herself, feeling the same flare of anger she'd felt earlier with Octavia. He ducks his head and smiles softly, but Clarke notices that it's sad, even tired. It barely even touches his eyes.

"I wouldn't dream of it, princess," he says as he looks at her, and without waiting for a response, he gets up and leaves, his shoulders a little more slouched than they were when he first sat down.

And despite herself—despite the walls and Lexa's voice in her head—Clarke wonders if whatever he's seen on her face is what's weighing him down.

xxx

Despite what the survivors of the Ark think, Clarke's relationship with Lexa is less a friendship and more of an apprenticeship. She had even heard Indra once snarl to a fellow Grounder that the commander had shamed them by "taking a Sky Person as a second." Clarke didn't quite know what to make of that, so she had just ignored it, sure that if an issue ever arose, Lexa would let her know, albeit in her rather brusque and direct way.

So when Lexa corners her late one afternoon while she's collecting herbs for her mother, a day they aren't supposed to meet, she is sure that Lexa wants to discuss the Grounders' increasing worries about the time they spend together.

"I am not too proud to admit when I've made a mistake," Lexa announces, her expressionless face as expressionless as ever. Clarke bites her lip, unable to read the commander, and unable to decide what to say in response to such a strange comment.

"Me neither," she finally says, after Lexa's pause continues for far too long. She isn't sure, but she thinks she can see a slight quirk of Lexa's lips, as if she's fighting a smile.

The mere possibility is somehow reassuring; the commander apparently did have feelings after all.

"My people cannot afford sentimentality, Clarke. We must fight to survive, and sentiments just make the fight harder." She shakes her head as if completely bewildered. "But your people, your people _thrive_ on emotions." Clarke frowns, realizing suddenly that this is not addressing Indra's concerns. This, in fact, has nothing to do with the alliance at all.

It sounds like Lexa is worried about her, and that makes it seem like they're, well, friends.

"What are you talking about?"

"Your people use emotions as a strength. It makes them want to fight harder, go further. And it was a mistake to teach you that love is weakness." Clarke's mouth drops, and she's ready to go strangle Octavia. Because of course the one person other than herself who frequently spends time with the Grounders would plant such nonsense in Lexa's head.

"Octavia is wrong. I'm _fine_." She stresses the last word, but Lexa just seems a little confused. At least, that's what Clarke assumes Lexa's blank expression is saying.

"I'm not speaking of Octavia," Lexa says, and she stands a little straighter. "But she has clearly seen what I have seen, and you are not fine." Clarke straightens too, deciding that if Lexa can be so informal—if she is treating her like a friend—then Clarke can be just as informal.

"Why don't you just tell me what you see?" She says it like a challenge, one she doesn't quite think Lexa will accept, but when Lexa's eyes flash and her chin juts out, she realizes she really should've known better.

As if Lexa would _ever_ not rise to a challenge.

"I see a girl who is weaker without her feelings than she was with them," she says harshly, though without the paint around her eyes, she seems far less intimidating. "Your ability to care made you strong, Clarke. I was a fool for not realizing you are more of a healer than a warrior."

"I'm a _leader_," Clarke says, squaring her shoulders and feeling her own chin jut out—almost as if she's subconsciously imitating the girl who has been her mentor, her rock, since the day she killed Finn.

"Yes, you are. But of the _Sky_ People." She relaxes slightly, and something in her eyes softens. "The Sky People need a different kind of strength from their leader. They need someone who cares, someone who is willing to love despite all the pain."

"They need their leader to suffer? Is that what you're trying to say?" Lexa doesn't respond immediately. She merely studies Clarke for a moment, as if trying to determine whether or not to speak. Finally she lets out a sigh.

"All leaders suffer, Clarke. It is the price they pay for their people." She doesn't smile, she doesn't offer any sort of comfort at all, but somehow Lexa's words do what her mother's, Kane's, and Octavia's could not: they make her understand.

Not that she would be willing to admit it aloud.

"You told me love is weakness, that it would be used against me." If she sounds bitter, desperate, even a little bit lost, she thinks Lexa of all people will understand. And of course, she does. With just a single nod, she says everything Clarke doesn't want to hear. That it _would _be used against her. That she _would_ suffer for her people till the day she died.

That the price she would pay for her people would be a constant state of pain.

Lexa turns and begins to walk away, leaving as abruptly as she came, but then she suddenly stops, looking back at Clarke with her trademark blank expression. "The Commander must lead alone," she says, something flickering in her eyes, something that Clarke would almost call _playful_. "But the leader of the Sky People? She has one who would be willing to share the pain."

"What?" Clarke blurts, her eyebrows shooting up.

"The tall one," Lexa clarifies. "The one who calls you 'princess.'" The Grounder Commander doesn't give Clarke the chance to tell her that she's insane.

xxx

Despite being the only one the Grounders are willing to work with (the 'true leader' they call her), Clarke is expected to do the tasks regulated to the younger survivors of the Ark—simple, safe, and time-consuming chores that were basically designed to keep the occupied and out of the way. It's why, three days after Lexa's surprise talk, Clarke finds herself collecting firewood with _him_.

They are silent, not having spoken much at all since he'd joked about being happy with whatever she'd done to piss his sister off, but it isn't uncomfortable. In fact, she doesn't think she's felt quite so at peace in some time.

He's walking ahead of her, bending over to pick up herbs that Nyko had described. Technically, they're supposed to be picking up twigs and such, but Bellamy had just snorted and rolled his eyes, choosing to do something 'worthwhile' instead. And Clarke is unable to blame him for feeling that way—after all, she does as well.

"This is so _pointless_," Bellamy suddenly says, shattering the silence and letting out a load groan before he leans against a tree. "We did _everything_ before they got down here, and now we're stuck collecting twigs?"

"They're trying to keep what little power they have." Bellamy looks at her quizzically, then shakes his head.

"Your new Grounder friend tell you that?" he says, bitterness tainting his tone. "I just don't understand you and Octavia." Clarke is less than impressed by his childish behavior, but she lets it slide because it's been as tough for him as it has been for her—probably more so.

Despite having long since grown up, the Ark survivors continued to insist on treating them like children.

"No. But Lexa did talk about you." She says it before she's thought it through, and immediately regrets the decision when his head snaps toward her, curiosity shining in his eyes.

"Oh really? What'd she say?" Clarke is shocked to feel her cheeks heat up—that hasn't happened in ages, not since she killed Finn, not since she saw the cages in Mount Weather—and, apparently, so is Bellamy. His eyes widen as he looks at her, clearly shocked. "Oh, now you've _got_ to tell me what she said."

"Just that she thought your nickname for me was funny," Clarke lies quickly, ignoring the pang of guilt she feels in her chest. Bellamy, however, doesn't notice her inner struggle because he smirks is right-sided smirk and ducks his head. The action makes her smile despite herself.

She loves when he does that.

"I'm glad _someone_ likes it," he jokes, giving her a pointed look. Something must register on her face, though, because he immediately sobers and he looks at her seriously. "Look, Clarke, I know that Finn's last words were." She doesn't ask how he knows, and he doesn't offer up the information, but it doesn't matter. The only person she told had been Raven. "If you want me to stop with the princess thing—" She interrupts him with a hug, one that he doesn't hesitate to return. "Are you okay, Clarke?" he asks, and she almost breaks down right there in his arms. Because Lexa had been _right_. Because he is willing to do so much for her, is somehow there whenever she needed him, and seems wholly concerned for her well-being.

She doesn't want to let him share the pain, but she also knows it's not in his nature to let things go. No matter what she says and does, he will always try to help her—even if her pushing him away hurts him.

So she clings to him tighter as tears threaten to fall, as the pain she had barely been holding at bay finally crashes into her. She clings to him, using him as an anchor, knowing that if she loses her grip she will be swept away.

And as she clings to him, as she breathes him in, it isn't that the pain recedes, but it becomes manageable. It becomes _bearable_.

"Clarke?" he questions, his tone no different from any other time he speaks to her. "What did the commander actually say?"

"That I should let you help me." There's so much she's leaving out, so much she wants to say but can't—because it's too soon, because wave after wave of fresh pain is coursing through her veins, because she still is reluctant to let him in—but Bellamy seems to understand.

"Well, okay. I guess I like the commander after all." It's weak, but she laughs anyway, mostly out of relief that he hasn't pushed her away like she's been doing to him. "Are you going to take her advice?" She pauses, thinking about what Octavia said, about how the 'love is weakness' phrase is no longer repeating incessantly in her mind. She thinks about how she hasn't seen Finn's ghost since Lexa told her that there was strength in caring. And she nods.

"Yes. I think I will." Bellamy doesn't respond, but then, he doesn't need to. His arms tighten around her, and he lets her dry her tears on his shoulder, and for Clarke, that's answer enough.

_Hello! So I know it won't work out like this. While I love Lexa, I just don't think she'll be that into admitting she made a mistake. I do, however, think she and Clarke will be bffs soon. (I mean, I really hope so. Lexa is amazing). Anyway, hope you liked it! _


End file.
